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Fantasy Fiction Speculative

There was a bench in Sam’s neighborhood park. It was old and worn from decades of rain, wind, and the bottoms of the suburban children and parents who frequented the place. The bench overlooked a large field of unkempt grass and wildflowers that would become illuminated in a golden light when the sun would set. A beautiful thing, that bench was.

The evening after he, and everyone else in the world, received the news, Sam went and sat on that bench. The world was changing, but still, he knew he could count on that bench to be there.

Sam watched the sun dip into the horizon. It looked so different from the normal burst of light in the sky that hurt eyes and warmed the backs of necks. At this time of the day, it was a mellow disc of gold hovering in the air. A symbol that the night was to come. And night would be coming indeed.

The PSA came out to everyone, a bright flashing message broadcasting to all electronic devices. Long ago, when Sam was in grade school back in the 2090’s, he was taught that there were two World Wars and no more. Humanity had become civilized to the point where a third was no possibility. Not in the twenty-second century. The PSA proved this to be a falsehood. 

There had been a coup in the Ivanovich Republic of Europe and Asia. War had been declared against the rest of the world. Honolulu was the first to be attacked. According to the PSA, the city was razed and survivors were fleeing to mainland California in droves. The death toll was in the millions.

And here Sam sat, on his familiar bench, watching his familiar sun, uncertain what to do next.

Go home, he figured. Sam lived alone in his house. His parents had died a couple years before. He had no family, no friends. He walked the ten minute journey through the suburban streets back to his solitary home. Sam opened his mailbox to see if anything had been left for him. There was nothing but a small card. Taking it out, his brow furrowed. Mysterious. It was about the size of a business card, the paper thick and white. One side was empty, bearing nothing but an embossed gold disc, looking not unlike the sun he had just been staring at. Flipping it over, the other side had nothing but a single word written in a typewriter font: “Awaken.”

Sam thought nothing of it. It was probably just some advertising stunt. A terrible time to begin an advertising campaign, Sam thought to himself morbidly. He walked into the house and threw the card into the open trash can.

The next day was a whirlwind of chaos, all delivered to Sam through the news applications on his devices. The first thing he woke up to was a blaring headline: New York City, Fallen. The city had been nuked. A faint ringing came to his ears as he attempted to absorb the information. Failing that, he looked through his emails to see one from the hospital at which he worked as a nurse. It was terse, short, and formal: As of today, July 23, 2127, your employment at Miami General Hospital has been temporarily terminated. That was all. 

Fighting the hollow feeling of disbelief quickly rising through his chest, Sam walked to his kitchen, made himself a cup of coffee, and turned on the news channel on his television. It was a mess of horrified anchors interviewing crazed eyewitness accounts of the desolation that was New York, PSA messages on how to prepare for potential nuclear war, wild advertisements for underground bunkers and safehouses, and general chaos. After fifteen minutes, Sam turned the television off.

After lunch, Sam went to get the mail. Three steps out of the house, he realized what a pointless venture it was. It was declared earlier that the U.S. Postal service had disbanded that morning, with the government allocating funds towards assembling for war. Nevertheless, in what was likely a subconscious bid for normalcy, Sam crossed his lawn and opened the mailbox.

Sure enough, nothing was there...except for a small card. It was identical to the one he received the day before: gold disc icon on one side, the word “Awaken” upon the other. 

Surely, he was dreaming. World War Three, these mysterious cards, the collapse of everything he knew. Sam went back into the house, set the card upon his bedside table, and fell asleep.

A week later, the message came: mandatory evacuation. The entire week, bombings had been hitting the American east coast hard. Cities were razed to the ground and Sam, who lived in Miami, knew his area may just be next. 

The entire past week had become its own kind of hell. Whenever he would go to bed, his dreams were filled with bizarre images and scenes, dreams that he had never had before. They were filled with visions of war; but, not the modern kind that was plaguing the waking world. Ancient war: men with armor of iron and leather, fighting upon chariots and horses. Plumed helmets flashed as spears were thrown and arrows shot. He would wake in a cold sweat every time just to enter the nightmare of change and bewilderment that was real life.

And the cards. Without fail, every day, another card would come to his mailbox. Golden sun on one side. “Awaken” on the other.

Sam began making arrangements to move to the Midwest.

Then one night, lightning struck. A crack and a flash lit up Sam’s world as the painful pressure snapped him out of the delirium of sleep. He jolted upright to see, to his horror, flames. Outside his window, the old weeping cherry tree that stood in his front yard had been lit ablaze by the thunderstorm. 

Quickly grabbing his jacket, Sam ran outside to see the bonfire that was once his front yard. Suddenly, he felt a burning hot sensation in the palm of his hand. He looked down to find himself clutching one of the mailed cards even though he was certain he had dashed out of the house empty-handed. That particular mystery was quickly scattered out of his mind by the fact that it was glowing: a bright yellow light, burning hot, was emitting from the golden embossed sun. Then—it burst into flames—

Darkness. Before a voice rang into his head. It was loud, ringing, and thunderous. And yet, somehow, deep within, Sam knew who it belonged to. “Awaken. Awaken, Apollo Phoebus, deity of light and sun. The humans are in crisis. It is time for the gods of millennia past to return.”

And with that, all traces of normalcy were torn to shreds.

July 24, 2021 03:54

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1 comment

Michael McGee
03:39 Jul 29, 2021

Nice story.

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